Chương 14
“More than twenty-four now.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You are still not doing an interview today.”
“I could.”
“No.”
Priya said, “She absolutely would.”
Meredith looked at her.
“You’re Priya?”
“Yes.”
“Keep her away from spreadsheets.”
“I have been trying.”
“You’re both oppressive.”
Nobody responded.
That annoyed me.
Then Meredith’s expression changed slightly.
“One other thing.”
I waited.
“The employer’s counsel asked whether you had ever received payments from them directly.”
“No.”
“Check your personal accounts when you are physically able.”
“I already did.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Old ones too?”
I hesitated.
There it was.
The gap.
Before marriage, I had used a local credit union for the proceeds from the software sale.
I eventually moved most of the money into our joint emergency fund, but I had kept the original account open with a small balance.
Daniel knew it existed.
I had not checked it in months.
“I have one old account.”
“Look.”
I opened the app.
The login failed.
I tried again.
Failed.
“Password issue?”
“I don’t think so.”
I used the reset function.
The verification code went to my email.
I changed the password and logged in.
For several seconds, nothing registered.
Then I saw the balance.
$64,218.44.
My last known balance had been under two thousand.
“Claire?”
Meredith’s voice sounded far away.
“There’s money.”
“How much?”
“Sixty-four thousand.”
Priya stood.
My mother stared.
“From where?”
I opened the transaction history.
Nine deposits.
All electronic.
All over the last eleven months.
The sender names varied slightly.
DLC Strategic.
DLC Consulting.
Strategic LLC.
One came from Daniel’s employer directly.
“Those are the consulting payments,” I whispered.
Meredith’s face went still.
“Do not move anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Do not spend anything.”
“I know.”
“Download statements only.”
I did.
My hands were no longer shaking.
That scared me more.
I scrolled through the deposits.
Five thousand.
Seven thousand five hundred.
Twelve thousand.
Six thousand.
The pattern matched the invoices.
Then I saw withdrawals.
Small at first.
Transfers out.
Two thousand.
Three thousand.
Then larger.
Ten thousand.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
All to DLC.
“What the hell?”
Priya leaned over.
“What?”
“He deposited money into my account and then moved most of it back out.”
“How?”
Meredith asked immediately.
“I don’t know.”
“Was Daniel ever authorized on this account?”
“No.”
“Could he access your login?”
“He knew old passwords.”
“Was two-factor authentication enabled?”
“I thought so.”
I opened the security page.
The recovery phone number ended in 9044.
Not mine.
Daniel’s.
My stomach turned.
I had changed phones two years earlier.
He had helped me transfer everything because I was traveling for work.
Apparently he had also changed the recovery number.
“His phone is on the account.”
Meredith swore for the first time.
Quietly.
That frightened everyone.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do not change anything else yet.”
“I already changed the password.”
“That’s fine.”
“Should I call the bank?”
“Yes, but with me on the line.”
We called.
The fraud department representative was polite and maddening.
She verified my identity, locked online transfers, added a security phrase, and opened an investigation.
When I told her the recovery number had been changed without my knowledge, she said access records would need review.
“When was it changed?”
“I can’t disclose that until the investigation is opened fully.”
“It is my account.”
“I understand.”
“Then tell me.”
“I’m not authorized.”
Meredith touched her temple.
I understood why lawyers drank.
The representative finally confirmed that the account had received repeated deposits and outgoing transfers initiated online.
She would not identify the device or IP addresses.
She would preserve them.
That was enough.
Then she said something I did not expect.
“There is also a pending incoming transfer.”
My entire body tightened.
“How much?”
“Forty-eight thousand dollars.”
“From who?”
“I can’t identify the sender until it posts.”
“When was it initiated?”
“This morning.”
I looked at Meredith.
She looked back at me.
“Can you stop it?”
The representative hesitated.
“I can flag the account, but incoming ACH credits are handled differently.”
“Do not reject it manually,” Meredith said.
“Why?”
“Because if this is evidence, we want the path preserved.”
I hated that sentence.
Evidence had started invading every corner of my life.
My accounts.
My house.
My marriage.
Even money I did not want had to be allowed to arrive so someone could understand where it came from.
When the call ended, Meredith said, “We need to know who initiated that transfer.”
“I know.”
“Do not contact Daniel.”
“I know.”
“Do not contact the company.”
“I know.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Good.”
My phone vibrated.
Daniel had sent a message.
His flight itinerary.
He was returning that afternoon.
Under it he had written, We need to fix this before it becomes irreversible.
I showed Meredith.
She read it.
“Do not answer.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Then another message appeared.
Mark has stopped answering everyone.
My chest tightened.
Then one more.
If he contacts you, do not trust him.
Priya read over my shoulder.
“Does Daniel have any idea where you’ll be after discharge?”
“He assumes home.”
“You’re not going home.”
Meredith said it before Priya could.
My mother nodded.
“Come to my place.”
I looked at her.
Her apartment had one bedroom, an elevator that smelled like boiled cabbage, and a neighbor who practiced trumpet badly every afternoon.
It was also somewhere Daniel would think to look immediately.
“No.”
“Then where?”
Priya said, “My guest room.”
I looked at her.
“No one associates me with domestic comfort,” she added.
“That is true.”
“Thank you.”
“You have stairs.”
“I have a first-floor office with a pullout couch.”
“Also terrible.”
“Claire.”
I looked at Lily.
Discharge was still at least a day away.
Yet suddenly every practical detail mattered.
Where she would sleep.
Who would know.
Whether Daniel could arrive.
Whether Mark could.
Whether anyone else connected to DLC knew my name beyond an invoice.
I hated the fear because it felt theatrical.
I hated even more that it might not be.
May you like
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was an unknown number.
